


Four Letter Words

by breed (weatherby)



Category: Harry Potter - Rowling
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-12-09
Updated: 2009-12-09
Packaged: 2017-10-04 07:10:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,433
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27381
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/weatherby/pseuds/breed
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It only takes two hours for most of the sixth year boys to find out that Draco Malfoy has a pornographic novel on him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Four Letter Words

**Author's Note:**

> This was written prior to the release of Half-Blood Prince.

It only takes two hours for most of the sixth year boys to find out that Draco Malfoy has a pornographic novel on him, and at lunch the Slytherin table is crowded with a cluster of boys from every house pestering him to let them see. Malfoy is at his prime, here. He sits back in his seat and feigns innocence, though it is clear that this is exactly what he wanted when he acquired the smut in the first place.

"Now, now, boys," he says, smoothing his hands over the table as though checking for wrinkles. "You needn't crowd. We can have a reading."

"Why can't you pass it around like a normal person?" Ernie Macmillan grumbles.

"I don't want you alone with _my_ book," says Malfoy. He curls his lip in disgust. "Who knows what would happen to it if I let it get passed around at night? You'll hear it, all right, but you'll have to hear it all at once when I can see everyone's hands."

Harry stands on the outermost part of the circle. He wasn't very interested when he heard from Ron, but he can't help standing to hear what the other boys are saying.

"Tonight, then," says Michael Corner, and he shoves himself in front of Ernie. "Before you can tell us you'll do it when you feel like it."

"I never said I was going to." Malfoy scoffs and sips his water daintily like he's giving a press conference. "All right, tonight. In the Slytherin common room, if you think I'm not going to show. Wait until midnight. You'll have to wait until I open the door. I'm not giving you the password just so you can hear, either. It'll cost you, of course."

"I knew he was losing his money," Ernie says quietly to Justin Finch-Fletchley. If Malfoy hears, he makes no sign of it.

"You're going to make us pay?" Terry Boot waves his arms in disgust. "Why do you need the money, Malfoy? Didn't your fa-" He is cut off when Anthony Goldstein elbows him in the stomach.

"How much?" asks Michael.

"I'm certain a Sickle won't break you," Malfoy says with a satisfied gleam in his eye. He has not seen this sort of attention in a long time. Mostly the attention Malfoy receives these days comes from balls of parchment thrown at the back of his head during lessons. "And if it will, I don't want you coming anyway."

Justin pushes his way out of the crowd and spots Harry. "Can you believe this? A Sickle for porn. I suppose he needs it. I heard they're going broke with his father in Azkaban. Good."

"Yeah," Harry says, passively. He doubts sincerely that Malfoy has run out of anything but attention. "So you're not going, then?"

"Of course I am!" Justin looks at him like he is off his trolley and weaves his way back toward the Hufflepuff table. Harry shakes his head.

"If I get caught, I'm going to kill you," says Dean, as the crowd breaks up. "This'd better not be a trap."

Malfoy, however, has gone back to eating his lunch. Harry shrugs and leaves the Great Hall, luckily unseen by Malfoy. He meets Ron on his way to Charms.

"I think I figured out how to get that book from Malfoy!" says Ron, excitedly. "We just have to wait until he's asleep and then we can fly into the dungeons one by one with _Welding_ Charms to get that stupid rock door thing they have instead of a portrait off -"

"You don't have to do that, he's doing a reading," says Harry. "In the Slytherin common room, at midnight. It costs a Sickle. I don't know if he'll let you in, though. He's letting Dean in, so he probably will. He just wants the attention."

"Who cares!" Ron practically shimmies into Flitwick's classroom with glee. "It's porn, Harry! I don't care if it's Malfoy's porn, just as long as he's not in it."

"Did you say porn, Mr Weasley?" asks Professor Flitwick. He looks vaguely delighted at the idea, but then, Flitwick looks vaguely delighted about everything.

"Uh, no?" Ron's ears turn red. "I said horn. Malfoy has this really cool horn but he always covers it up, you should ask him about it."

"Oh dear!" Flitwick hops from his stack of books and clutches his hands together. "You mustn't bother anyone about their magical afflictions! If Mr Malfoy has given himself a horn he must be very embarrassed about it! Shame on you, Mr Weasley."

Harry laughs.

"Seriously, mate," Ron whispers after Flitwick starts the lesson. "I'm going to go, are you in?"

"What? No. It's not like he has the only one anyway."

"Then let's see you walk into a shop and buy one! You won't catch me doing that, Fred and George will find out and they'll just 'accidentally' tell my mum, I can already see it now." Ron looks faintly ill at the thought. "I'm not going into the stupid Slytherin room alone! And I don't have a Sickle."

Ron's sleeves are pushed up, the scars of thoughts on his forearms darker than even his freckles. Some days they still look fresh like welts, but not today.

"I'll loan you the Sickle," Harry says, and Ron looks relieved.

"Will you two _please_ stop whispering over me?" Hermione hisses. "Honestly, you could have asked me to sit on the other side."

"Sorry, Hermione," they say at the same time, but out of sync, and Harry tries not to laugh as she gathers her books and switches seats with Ron.

"You won't be alone," Harry reasons. "Dean's going."

"Like I care about Dean," Ron says with a snort. "We never even talk unless we just happen to be in the same room! Come on, Harry, it might be, you know, Dark Porn. Don't you want to be there to find out if it is?"

Harry glares and taps his finger pointedly on the article announcing Lucius Malfoy's imprisonment that is Spellotaped to Ron's Charms book. There are smiley faces and lightning bolts drawn all over it. "All right, but if Malfoy tries to kill me, it's really, really your fault."

"Mine? I wasn't even conscious when they took Lucius Malfoy to Azkaban."

"Excuse me," says Hermione. "Do you really think this is the place to discuss this?"

Ron snaps his book open and props it up like a wall to block Hermione from looking at him. "Excellent, then, we'll wait until Neville's asleep. I'm not going to listen to porn with Neville."

Harry feels this is unfair, but on second thought realises that he would rather not listen to porn with Neville, either. He would also rather not listen to porn from Malfoy, but he has to admit that he's kind of curious to see what sort of smut Malfoy has. So, true to word, he waits in bed that night, clutching his wand until Neville falls asleep, and when Ron and Dean tug on his curtains he follows them to the dungeons. In the corridors they pass Ernie Macmillan, who is slinking along from one shadow to the next, and will probably not get there for a half an hour at the rate he's going.

The large stone door to the Slytherin common room is propped open with a cauldron. They are late, and it seems that Malfoy must have got bored of letting people in.

"That's not very secure, is it?" asks Dean.

"Probably not, but it's Slytherin, what do they care?" says Ron. "Probably have a curse on the cauldron." He rolls his eyes and steps widely over the cauldron to slide in through the narrow gap. Dean goes next, and Harry thinks about how idiotic this is before he follows.

Malfoy has already started. For the occasion, he seems to have got hold of a stool, a tall one, which he is perched on in the middle of the common room. He looks like he's reading poetry or something classic, for all the seriousness he seems to have put into it, and the apt attention the boys are giving him. Crabbe and Goyle sit on either side of the stool, and the rest are scattered around sofas and the floor. The only light is the fireplace and a torch hanging from the ceiling in a bowl, casting eerie orange and yellow tints flickering over everyone's shadowed faces.

"'-he said, sliding his wand over the sweet, flushed petals of her entrance.' Oh, it's you."

Everyone's heads swivel around in annoyance to see who has caused Malfoy to stop at what appears to be a crucial moment.

"Well, you left the door open," Ron says angrily. "We're allowed to come too if you can't be arsed to be a bit more secure."

"Settle down," says Malfoy. His eyes flicker to Dean and then Harry and back to Ron. "I didn't say you couldn't stay. Unless, of course, you don't have your cover fee."

Theodore Nott extends his arm over the back of a sofa, shoving a brass bowl filled with Sickles at them. Dean throws his into Nott's lap. Harry takes two Sickles from his pocket and drops them on top of the others.

Malfoy eyes Harry coldly, and Harry's hand goes immediately to his wand in his pocket. The room seems to be focussed entirely on Harry and Malfoy, but maybe Harry is imagining it. After a moment Malfoy nods at Nott and says, "Sit. Perhaps you'll learn something. Sit, Potter. Now."

Ron mutters something about the proximity of Malfoy's wand to his arse and sits down next to a long, black leather sofa. Harry sits next to him and pulls his knees to his chest. Justin Finch-Fletchley gives them a thumbs up from the chair immediately opposite.

"Now where was I? Oh, yes. '"You've been a naughty witch," he said, sliding his wand over the sweet, flushed petals of her entrance. "By rights I should turn you into the Ministry of Magic and let them deal with you." Alice sighed and writhed beneath his strong hands. She rolled a rosy pink nipple between her perfectly manicured thumb and forefinger. "Oh, please, Randolph," she cried. "I need you inside me." The rakish Randolph chuckled and grazed his thumb over her clit just briefly, just enough to draw a desperate moan from her sweet lips. "In time, dear pet," he said.'"

Harry feels his cheeks burn hot with embarrassment and dismay. He thinks that it is just typical that Malfoy would do voices and act the dialogue out like it was a play, but still, it wasn't something he considered before coming. He unties and re-ties his shoes very carefully. Beside him, Ron pays rapt attention to Malfoy's squealing.

"'"Oh, god, oh, oh, oh!" Alice cupped both of her pert breasts in her smooth, white hands as Randolph slid his wand into her passage, which was slick with arousal.'"

Harry ties his laces into double knots, and then triple. Malfoy's voice, as Alice, slips into a breathy, feminine wail, and not the falsetto squeak that boys usually use when they imitate girls. Harry thinks that this is frighteningly odd, if only because he has never heard Malfoy swear before this.

"'"Fuck me, Randolph! Fuck me, now, oh, god, fuck me!" Her feet scrabbled frantically at his hips. Randolph withdrew his wand from her and licked it clean with a lascivious grin.'" Malfoy clears his throat, and on cue, Goyle hands him a tumbler of water.

"You'd think the wood would start to get warped or something if you did that all the time," Ron whispers. "Malfoy's very theatrical, isn't he?"

"He always is," says Harry.

"'Alice groaned in frustration and ran her hand over his thick cock.'" Malfoy raises his eyebrows at Ernie as he comes in and sits on an end table. "'She slid the head of his cock between her legs to part her slippery folds, and this was too much for even the icy Lord Randolph to withstand. He groaned deeply and grabbed her tiny waist. "You need to be taught a lesson," he said, and with one thrust he filled her. Alice froze in sheer bliss for one tantalising moment before she let out a whimper that went straight to Randolph's throbbing cock.'"

Harry adjusts his robes and knocks elbows with Ron, who nearly jumps from his skin at the accidental nudge. Malfoy pauses and looks at them wryly.

"Well, go on!" says Ron. "Never been startled before?"

"Shut up!" says Terry Boot.

"You shut up, too!" says Michael Corner.

"'"Oh my god, you wonderful _stallion_!"'" says Malfoy. Everyone else settles down. "'Alice shrieked as Randolph rubbed his thumb back and forth over her clit. He quickened the rhythm of his thrusts as she bucked wildly beneath him. "Oh, god, yes, yes, yes! I have been a naughty witch! Fuck me!"'"

Justin puts both thumbs up this time.

Harry realises that this is getting out of hand, and crawls to the door of the common room before he stands. The only person who has noticed him leaving is Malfoy, who smirks over the top of his book and continues faking a female orgasm. Harry's heel bangs against the cauldron as he steps over it, but he doesn't care.

He discovers that he is running once he is halfway down the corridor. In his head, Malfoy's fake orgasm rings over and over, though the voice changes; to Cho, to Ginny, and to Hermione for one horrifying moment before Celestina Warbeck's voice quickly intercepts that. Harry ducks into the first lavatory he finds and checks all of the stalls before he locks one behind him.

He stands quietly for a moment, unsure that he is really going to do this in the middle of a lavatory, and one that is in the dungeons, no less. He sits on the edge of the toilet and presses his hand into his crotch firmly, as though if he pushes hard enough, his erection will go away. He does this in class and it never works, and it doesn't now. It only makes things worse. He draws in a sharp breath and squeezes his thighs around his hand, half doubling over in frustration. Harry pushes his cock into his hand through the material of his robes unconsciously. For a moment he can only sit there scrunched up in torment.

He hopes that no one heard his foot hit the cauldron.

Harry quickly pulls his robes up to his waist and unbuckles his belt. His feet fidget back and forth on the floor when he brushes his cock with the side of his hand and he quickly fumbles to pull his trousers and shorts from his hips to his knees. The toilet is a cold shock underneath him. He wraps his fingers over the tip of his cock and his hips arch towards his hand. He groans, because no matter how much he tries, it never seems like he can get what he wants.

Luckily, the creak of the lavatory door opening covers the sound of his groan as someone walks in.

He is not surprised when he smells the overwhelming odour that is Malfoy's undoubtedly expensive cologne, but still he wants to cry, or at least punch Malfoy very hard, and he doubles up with his head against the stall wall. It is only typical that if someone were going to walk in right now, it would be Malfoy. He wonders if Malfoy followed him.

Malfoy enters the stall next to his. The sound of the lock clicking echoes throughout the lavatory and Harry holds his breath.

There is a sigh from behind the wall, and the clang of a belt buckle hitting the floor. Harry panics and it is almost enough to calm his erection, almost, until Malfoy makes a whimpering sound that calls back the memory of his fake orgasm. Harry cringes and presses his hand down on his cock again. It is not as though he has never heard another boy masturbate; Ron is nearly chronic about it, and he and Seamus have even done so at the same time without paying each other much mind. Malfoy is not Seamus, but Harry thinks that he may seriously burst into tears if he cannot do something about this. Malfoy lives in a dormitory, too.

Tentatively, Harry strokes his cock in what he hopes is silence, but can't help the wavery sound that comes out of his mouth.

"Someone else is in here," Malfoy announces stupidly. His voice sounds strained, as though he has just run around the entirety of the dungeons.

"It's - me," says Harry, lamely. He tries to sound calm, but his voice shakes.

"Potter?"

"Er. Yeah."

There is a pause, and a shifting of fabric from the other stall. "Are you wanking off over my erotic story?"

Harry bangs his forehead against the toilet roll dispenser in aggravation. He jumps at the sound. "What are _you_ doing?"

"None of your business. It's the lavatory. I needn't divulge." Malfoy gasps a little after he says this, and Harry is appalled when his cock twitches in response. Harry gasps, too, and for a moment they're both silent.

"Well, Potter? Are you going to leave?"

Harry almost forgets his need to wank in his irritation. "Why should I leave? I got here first. You leave, Malfoy. Your dorm isn't far."

"I can't, you stupid prat."

"Well, neither can I." There is silence again, and Harry clenches and unclenches his thighs. He fingers the buckle of his belt at his knees and waits for Malfoy to ask him to leave again, because it is unlikely that he will just sit there.

"I am a _prefect_, and I say you have to leave."

It is strange, arguing with Malfoy through a wall. It is like Malfoy is not there, other than his disembodied voice and smell. Harry can almost pretend that he isn't. He rubs his knee. "I'm not going to leave! I don't care if you wank off, all right? Just do it and then we can pretend this never happened."

"Why would _I_ -" Malfoy's feet slap on the floor and his stall door slams. Harry scrambles to pull his trousers up just as the door to his stall flies open. Sometimes magic isn't fair at all, and this is one of those times. Malfoy leans against the wall outside of the door and crosses his arms. "You forgot to buckle your belt, Potter. Why would _I_ need to wank over my own book? I've already read it a hundred times."

"You forgot to buckle your belt, too," says Harry, gesturing at the flap of leather sticking out at Malfoy's waist. It only occurs to him after he says it that this is, after all, a lavatory, and there are plenty of other reasons to have your belt unbuckled, but this does not seem to occur to Malfoy, either.

"Oh, go hang yourself," snaps Malfoy, and his features cloud over. Pink rushes to his cheeks as he fixes his belt. "Look here, Potter. Go ahead and wank for all I care. I'm going to stay right here and watch you, is all. I'm sure that makes you quite eager to do it." He smirks and for one wild, terrifying moment, Harry thinks that maybe Malfoy wants to watch him, until he realises that Malfoy is using this as a ploy to get Harry to leave.

Harry does the only thing he can think of: he drops his trousers.

Malfoy has the decency to look horrified, briefly, but it is gone as quickly as it came. He sits down on the floor and raises his chin, daring Harry to go through with it.

Harry closes his eyes and presses the ball of his hand into his crotch again in a last, desperate attempt to squash his erection. His breath hitches in his throat and he leans forward, his other hand quickly flying to the door of the stall to keep his balance. His cock twitches almost painfully, and Harry slides his hand through the flap in his shorts to wrap his hand around it. He can't bear to open his eyes to look at Malfoy. His cheeks are burning, stinging. He hopes that Malfoy will run off in disgust but soon there is the clack of Malfoy's wand hitting the floor.

"If you tell anyone about this, I swear to god, I'll kill you while you sleep."

Harry opens one eye slightly. Malfoy is sitting against the wall, knees spread with his trousers pooled at his ankles. His legs are much less hairy than Harry's. He spits into the palm of his hand and scowls at Harry before he closes his eyes. Harry closes his eyes again and jerks, thinking again of Malfoy directing half of the boys in their form to fuck him.

"Oh, god," groans Malfoy, almost exactly like he did when he was reading aloud. Harry kicks the stall door closed with his foot but it slams against the frame, bouncing immediately back just as Harry slips his other hand into his shorts. The fabric rubbing against him is growing damper, but he has already decided that he draws the line at taking his shorts off in front of Malfoy. His fingers are slick when he moves them over his cock, and the noises would be embarrassing if not for the fact that Malfoy is grunting helplessly a few feet away. Harry switches hands and moves frantically, his cock aching against the restrain of his shorts.

Malfoy whimpers and there is a weird thump. Harry moans quietly, and doesn't have time to be embarrassed when he realises Malfoy is moaning, too. The muscles in his thighs clench just as Malfoy mumbles, "Oh my god, I'm -" and breaks off with a series of raw moans and gasps and Harry can't help but open his eyes. He has never seen anyone else come.

The thump, it turns out, was the sound of Malfoy's head hitting the wall, because he does it again, eyes clenched shut as he arches his hips up off the floor. He comes with a strangled cry and a spurt of come that lands on his knees and smacks against the tiles. His body twitches like an aftershock as he continues rubbing his cock through the last of it. Harry's stomach twists in what he can only think is jealousy. He leans his head against the edge of the half-open door and jerks his hand more frantically, no longer caring about the choked groans coming out in time to his strokes.

Harry pauses to shudder and catch his breath, and when he does, it hurts so badly he cries out. It feels like he will never come, and if he doesn't come he will cry, or collapse. He can't help it -- he has to tug his shorts down to rest at his knees with his trousers, regardless of Malfoy.

He can tell by the scent that Malfoy is sitting closer to him now, but Harry doesn't care. He clenches the side of the door and the wood digs deep into his palm. Something solid grazes his arm and Harry flinches and opens his eyes. It is the top of Malfoy's head. He is kneeling on the floor, practically sitting on Harry's feet. He looks at him curiously, like Harry is doing it wrong, which is so like Malfoy that it isn't funny. Harry lets out a strange, throaty growl of irritation and rests his forehead on his wrist.

When Malfoy's slick, sticky hand touches his cock, Harry nearly jumps out of his skin. His hands flutter wildly to push Malfoy away and he opens his mouth to protest, but the only thing that comes out is a pathetic whimper.

"Don't," says Malfoy, and he tightens his cold fingers around Harry's cock. His gaze is on his own hand, leaving his eyes heavy-lidded when Harry stares at him, lips parted half with shock, half with the gasp Malfoy draws from him.

He squeezes and Harry can barely see, can barely tell that it is Malfoy. Malfoy's hand is wet and firm and quick, and his come smears thinly over Harry's skin. In one swift motion Harry sits back down, wraps his hand around Malfoy's and cries, "Oh, god."

His fingers are slippery on his cock against Malfoy's and he is pushing at Malfoy's hand more than he is at his own skin. His fingertips slide in the come on Malfoy's knuckles, and when he thrusts it is into Malfoy's palm. Harry freezes and covers his mouth with his other hand only just in time. With a shudder and a muffled shout he comes, the mess leaking through the webs of his fingers and onto Malfoy's.

Harry shivers for a moment as Malfoy strokes slower, moving Harry's hand in time with his. Finally, Harry stills and Malfoy's hand disappears. He balls his hands loosely in his lap and the hot, nauseating sting of horror returns even as he is still catching his breath.

He opens his eyes in time to see Malfoy from the back, standing up and pulling his trousers back to his hips. He pauses to slide his belt through the loops on his trousers and steps away from Harry's line of vision, hidden by the stall door. A few seconds later, the water is running in the sink.

Harry breathes in the stall as Malfoy cleans himself up. He wipes come from his belt buckle with his forefinger and tries very hard to remain casual, though this is difficult when he is not even certain whether the come is his or Malfoy's. He envisions come stains on the stomach of Malfoy's robes and is horrified.

"I'm going now," Malfoy says, a moment later. He is standing just beside the stall door, but not near enough for Harry to see anything but his shoes, scuffed as they have been all year.

"Um. All right." Harry feels incredibly stupid, and it is not only slightly because his shorts and trousers are still at his knees.

"Remember what I said."

"Yeah. Er. Thanks . . . Malfoy." Harry blanches at the phrase. He stares at the come on his hand. It is almost enough to make him laugh, if he were the sort of person who could laugh at himself for things like this.

"_Don't_ mention it." There is a dramatic swish of fabric, assumedly the sound of Malfoy turning to leave. "See you in lessons, Alice."


End file.
